


Set the night on fire

by JaqofSpades



Series: Light My Fire [1]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/F, TSC prompt 245
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5009440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mary Jane,” Nora nods at the distinctively shaped leaf. “You know, pot.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Nora pulls her gaze away from the herbs to stare into Charlie’s puzzled face.</p><p>“Oh. My. God. Seriously? You haven’t … like, ever?”</p><p>Charlie returns her disbelief with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Still have no idea what you are talking about. What is this stuff, anyway? Smells good.”</p><p>“Oh, Charlie. Do I have a treat for you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set the night on fire

**Author's Note:**

> My Charlie/Nora fill for Prompt 245 of The Second Coming: “This, Charlie, is marijuana.” Unashamedly inspired by The Doors, “Light My Fire.” 
> 
> I'm not advocating drug use here, yadda yadda yadda. But if you must, do take heed of Nora's rule: it's a good one.

Miles is spending his third solid day in Kelly Foster’s office, and while Nora knows she should be there, she can’t find it in herself to go. After Mia, after the roundabout that is her unresolved feelings for Miles, after Rachel, she refuses to become just another moon trapped by Miles Matheson’s gravity.

She and Charlie roam the city instead, delighting in its clean, bustling streets, and all manner of food, books, and trinkets available from the huge, central market.

“Mmm,” Nora groans as a sweet, blessedly familiar smell weaves its way under her nose. “Oh God, yes.”

Charlie raises a sceptical Matheson eyebrow at her fervent outburst, but where Miles would have cracked a joke at Nora’s expense, Charlie simply wants in on the secret.

“Mary Jane,” Nora nods at the distinctively shaped leaf. “You know, pot.”

“What?”

Nora pulls her gaze away from the herbs to stare into Charlie’s puzzled face.

“Oh. My. God. Seriously? You haven’t … like, ever?”

Charlie returns her disbelief with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “Still have no idea what you are talking about. What is this stuff, anyway? Smells good.”

“Oh, Charlie. Do I have a treat for you.”

She buys two bunches of fresh leaf, and small baggy of dried. There are even brownies on offer, and those she’s never been able to resist.

“Just the smell of all that chocolate is making me hungry,” Charlie giggles, turning ridiculously effective puppy eyes on Nora. “Just a little taste?”

“Hell no, not out in the open. Let’s get back to the room. I have no idea how legal this stuff is here.”

Charlie shoots her an intrigued look and starts walking. Bless her rebellious Matheson heart, Nora grins, and slides the goodies into her jacket before breaking into a jog to catch up with her.

*

“Like – _inhale_ the smoke? How can that be healthy?”

Someone, Nora sighs, has obviously been given the no smoking speech at least once. Whoever had delivered it obviously hadn’t made it as far as marijuana, as Charlie clearly has no idea what’s she’s in for.

“It’s not healthy. But it’s worth it. Trust me.”

Charlie’s smile is incandescent, and the little twist of something in Nora’s gut makes her wonder if they should be having the other talk. The one her mother had given her the first time she’d come home smelling like pot.

“Charlie – one rule about pot. All drugs really. Always do it somewhere safe, with someone you can trust. Never with people you don’t know,” Nora lectures, biting her lip.

“Why?”

“It hits different people different ways. Some people dance, some people stare at the wallpaper, others won’t stop talking.” She finishes rolling the blunt in the pretty handmade paper, and holds it up, inspecting her handwork. “This stuff, in particular – it lowers your inhibitions. Makes you say stuff, sometimes do stuff, you might not have wanted to otherwise.”

Charlie wrinkles her nose as she eyes the joint. “So why the hell do people do it, then?”

“Because sometimes, you just need to let go,” she says, focusing on the flare of her match in order to avoid the sad understanding in Charlie’s eyes.

*

“He’s not worth it, you know. I mean he’s a good uncle – ‘cept when he sucks – but he’s not good at other stuff. People stuff.”

Nora chokes on a combination of smoke and laughter. She takes another long drag and lets the feeling work its way through her body, the tingle in her scalp, the blood singing under her skin, a million separate pulse points through her body. She stretches to full length on the floor, enjoying the cool tiles against her bare skin, jeans somehow discarded.

“There’s some people stuff he’s really, really good at,” she says wistfully, floating on the memory. “Just not … talking. Or feeling. Or not being an asshole.   Giant, sexy asshole,” she pouts, glancing across to where Charlie is rolling around in the middle of the big bed. “Stay away from sexy assholes, Charlie. They’ll ruin you for all the other assholes.”

Charlie crawls to the edge of the bed and frowns at the gap between the bed and the floor. “Mmm-kay. But – but …” she holds her arms in the air and her feet straight out as if expecting a slide to materialise. The descent is less than graceful.

“Ow. Your hair smells so good,” Charlie moans, trying to right herself from where she has landed, sprawled across Nora’s midsection. “You always smell good.” She heaves a sob and buries her face in the silken mass of Nora’s hair. “But I think I might be an asshole too.”

Nora flips them over and stares up into Charlie’s face. “You can’t help it. Matheson genes. But your heart, Charlie. Don’t let them kill your heart,” she pleads.

Aquamarine eyes glaze with tears as they stare back into her own. “I feel everything, Nora. It hurts so bad.”

“Ay, love, I know. I know,” Nora murmurs. The kiss was aimed for her forehead, she knows it was, but somehow their lips meet, and cling, and then their mouths are open, sipping at each other’s sorrow. Their kisses are all sweet, hot comfort until Charlie drifts a hand down to ghost it across Nora’s belly; skin to skin is something different.

“Ah!” Nora gasps, and Charlie hums her satisfaction, dragging the pads of her fingers back and forth just above the low cut waist of Nora’s panties, deviating only to make a teasing circle around her navel.

“Nora?”

“Mmm?”

“Would you let me?”

She’d let Charlie do anything, Nora rambles, her kisses taste like chocolate and her touch is fire and she’s sick of wanting and not getting and Charlie is so beautiful and golden. “Your pussy probably tastes like sunshine,” she mumbles, and Charlie giggles into her neck, hot puffs of sweet breath travelling down, down her body as long fingers slide into her panties.

Her sex is already molten and ready to explode, but it’s not enough, Nora realises. She wants sunshine on her skin, wants to turn her face into its warmth and bask in the sweet, golden glow. She rolls out from underneath and then pounces, straddling Charlie’s face as she noses her way into the nest of curls dripping with liquid gold.

They trade oblivion so efficiently that there is no end to the pleasure, simply waves of less and more, slow and fast, embers and fire. Outside, the sun could be going down, or even coming up: the world has shrunk to four walls, a scatter of fragrant leaves, and a bed.

“Is it always like this?” Charlie asks, minutes, days, hours later, and Nora needs to kiss the heresy out of her mouth.

“Maybe at first. Like I said, never get high with someone you don’t trust. And it was really good weed. But …”

Charlie snuggles into Nora’s side, loose and languid as the Atlanta night. “Hmmm?”

“We probably came down about six hours ago.”

_fin_


End file.
